Sonata In Red
by Ben is Glory
Summary: Buffy and Spike share a dream. BS. Complete.


TITLE: Sonata In Red  
AUTHOR: Ben is Glory  
RATING: PG-13

PAIRING: B/S

SETTING: Early season six, except Willow and Tara aren't living in the house with Buffy and Dawn, for story purposes of course ;D You understand, lol.  
DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Joss, story belongs to me. And I will pimp Four Star Mary until the day I die, so the italicized lines at the beginning are FSM's from the excellent song Bleed On.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow.. I finished this story! Woohoo! It took me a few days, but it was so great writing it. I fell in love with the story cause I'm a big dork like that. Extra special thanks to my beta Alexa. I love you girl!  
FEEDBACK: Now, you see, this is a must have. Revieeew! :)

***

__

If there's miles of roses

And thorns are showing

Cut their skin like paper

And see what's flowing

***

It comes to her every night now. The same dream, the same scene. She used to try to fight it, couldn't believe her fantasy. Couldn't believe it was about _him_. It would _never_ be him. Regardless, night after night she continued to dream, and she continued to meet him only in her dreams.

She comes in late from patrol. Nothing out of the ordinary. Through the front door as quiet as a mouse, making sure not to wake her sleeping sister. The house is much quieter since it's just the two of them. Carefully, she tiptoes up the stairs, trying not to make one creek. She creeps into her bedroom and softly closes the door. Moves to the dresser and takes out a tank top and a pair of boxers: her usual bedtime attire.

She walks to the bathroom and turns on the light. The sudden brightness hurts her eyes, but she continues on to the sink. Pulls down a toothbrush from it's place and turns on the faucet. Cool water rushes out of the chrome creating a calm, soothing noise. She runs her toothbrush under the flood and reaches for the toothpaste. It glides on easily, and she moves the brush to her mouth. Tiny little circles leave the fresh taste of mint tingling all over. She rinses once and shuts the light off, returning to her room.

Reaching the bed, she can almost feel him there. Lurking in the shadows. It's not real, she tells herself. But she doesn't know he waits outside her window each night. Watches her sleep. Watches her dream. Lately, he's heard her moan a few times before he leaves to go back to his crypt. He just grins and walks away.

She pulls the covers back and climbs in the bed. She is enveloped in warmth, her pillow smelling of vanilla and the honey shampoo she always uses. Her eyes shut, and she falls into a deep slumber.

***

"It's all ready for you, baby," he calls seductively from the bathroom. She pulls herself away from her position on the bed and flitters toward the sound of his voice. The voice that makes her weak in the knees. The voice that drives her crazy, sends shivers down her spine, and makes her want to kill him every night in his sleep.

She slowly pushes the door open and finds him standing there waiting for her. Always her. Only her. He's wearing nothing but a pair of raggedy old jeans frayed at the hips. Every contour of his muscles is clearly defined, and his bluer than blue eyes pierce her pale green ones.

He watches her every move as she enters the bathroom. She's dressed in a silky black nightgown, and her golden locks are tumbling over her shoulders. He takes in her scent but can't quite place it. She smells of sunshine and daffodils and everything he wants to have but can't. She turns her head to see the bath that he has prepared for her. Warm water adorned with red rose petals. Redder than the blood pumping away in her veins and redder than the blood he wants to drink from her whenever she is around.

"So, pet, are you pleased?" he asks, not sure of what to expect. She always has a new answer, a different card to play when he's least expecting it. But tonight is for her, and she knows it.

She doesn't say anything. Just slips one thin strap of her dress over her right shoulder. She hears the sharp intake of his unneeded breath. A small smile creeps across her face as she lets the other strap fall. She rarely smiles anymore.

The entire slip is pushed down now, and she carefully steps out of it. He notices how perfect her petite, thin frame is, and she moves toward the tub. In that moment she looks so pure and weak, like demon fighting would only destroy her frail body. He's not wrong. She lifts one foot in, testing the temperature. The other foot follows, and she slides down into the comforting bath.

Her gaze shifts to study the Greek god she is sharing the room with. His hand slides down his stomach, and he begins undoing the button on his jeans. Soon they're off, and he's in the water with her. He moves until he is positioned behind her, massaging her back and shoulders. Releasing all the tension in her body until there is nothing left but warmth and love. But then again, he could never really warm her; he's too cold.

A feeling comes over her: complete ease and content. The stress and worry of her everyday life seem to be flowing off her in waves, leaving only a bare, exposed girl who longs to be loved and accepted. She leans back into his chest, the petals flowing all around her with the swish of the moving water. He holds her tight, wanting to love her and protect her and keep her safe, but he knows it is all a lie.

She tilts her head upwards, and his mouth meets hers halfway. Lips and tongues explore as two worlds collide. She moans softly, and he smiles.

***

He opens the door to his crypt and is greeted by darkness. Nothing new, but lately he's been depressed at the sight of it. He's got his sunshine back now, and selfishly he won't settle for less. He wonders if he'll get his chance now that she's back. Wonders if she can love him now that he's the only one who shares the secret of where she's been. What she's lost. If only they knew they were looking for the same thing.

He descends the ladder to the bottom floor and approaches the bed. Strips down and climbs in. He lies on his back and puts his hands behind his head. Thoughts of them together dance in his head as he slowly slips into sleep.

***

"A nice warm bath. God, that sounds so good." He remembers hearing her say this once. Can't remember quite exactly when it was, just that from the second it was uttered, he wanted to make it come true for her. Tonight is the night. He wants to see the surprise and relaxation flush her features. He wants to make her scream.

He tells her to lie down on the bed, that there's a present in the bathroom if she'll just wait and let him prepare it. She seems confused at first, but obeys hesitantly. He returns to the bath he's started. Moves to the counter and picks up the dozen roses he bought earlier. Carefully, the petals are picked off one by one, and he scatters them in the water. He's always wanted to do something romantic for her.

When he thinks everything is ready, he removes his black tee and double checks his work. He's got a bottle of champagne waiting, two plush robes, and a plate of cherries. He had seen her eat them once. He had trouble keeping it together when he did. They were perfect for tonight.

Every time he thinks of her, a strange feeling overcomes him. Passion and desire mixes with love and hate. The need to shelter and the need to kill. He's never felt more than he does when he is with her. Without her, he would be numb.

He invites her in and waits nervously. It seems like hours before she comes, but time falls away when he first looks at her. She's the image of beauty and perfection and death all rolled up into one.

When she notices the bath, she begins to remove her nightie. His knees quiver, and he feels himself holding onto the wall for support. He sees what he thinks is a small smile forming on her face. He remembers how she used to smile, and he misses it. He wants to make her smile again.

She eases into the tub and closes her eyes. She's a goddess in the water with the petals framing her body, and he waits for the moment when she realizes that it's him and not Angel, not Riley. The moment when horror and shame consume her, and she flees. Tonight, that moment doesn't exist.

Her eyes open, and she looks at him expectantly. He decides to proceed, takes off his blue jeans and gets in. She sits in front of him, and he traces her body, hands everywhere. He nuzzles his face into her neck. Quietly he can hear her heart beat. It's a little bit faster now. He catches a glimpse of a stray petal, crimson. Imagines ripping into her throat, tasting her, taking her. Claiming her and making her his.

She turns and lifts his head up. She looks him straight in the eye. He sees she is filled with so many emotions. Fear. Hunger. Loneliness. For a second he thinks there's love buried somewhere deep inside, but she blinks and whatever was there is gone. And she's kissing him now. It's fierce and primal but soft and sensuous all at the same time. In that moment, he feels whole, complete. He wants to cry out to the world, to show every single person the love and affection he feels. And he smiles.

***

Another patrol, another late night. She opens the front door and enters the house, the shadows make it feel like home. Shuts the door and starts up the stairs. She reaches the top and realizes something's not right. Her ears strain to hear the out of place noise, running water. She tenses up as her heart begins to beat a little bit faster now. Dawn's not home, she remembers. Her sister is spending the night at a friend's house. Probably up for a midnight snack, giggling and talking about boys.

She approaches the bathroom door. It's closed, but she can see light seeping through the cracks all around it. Nervously, she pushes the door open and looks inside, ready to attack. What's on the inside confuses her, and she wonders if she is dreaming.

Welcoming her arrival is a warm bath decorated with satin, scarlet rose petals. A bottle of champagne in bucket of ice sits on a chair, two terrycloth robes lay folded on the counter, and a plate of gorgeous cherries are placed next to the tub. In the middle of the room stands a friend, a foe, and everything in between.

He stares at her, and she drinks it all in. Tries to read her face, find out what she's thinking, feeling, but she's a blank slate. If his heart could beat, he's sure it would burst out of his chest.

"What are you doing here?" she asks. Her voice is cold and bewildered, and he is scared to death.

"I, uh… I had a dream," he begins. He looks down at the ground, wishing he had never even had this stupid idea. His heart feels like it's crumbling into a million pieces, but he looks up to see her reaction.

"You had a dream?" She is shocked and baffled and can't even start to comprehend the situation. "I don't… I don't understand."

"Never mind," he says quickly as he grabs his shirt and starts to leave. She catches him before he can get out the door. He turns toward her and notices a single tear roll down her cheek.

Her eyes meet his and she searches for some sort of answer. "But, this was _my_ dream."

"Mine too, love. Always did want to make you happy." He grins, hoping to lighten the mood, hoping she won't throw him out, hoping she will give him the chance to prove himself. He's a man, not a monster.

She gives him a tiny nod and more tears escape. "I know," she whispers. Her body moves closer to his, and she wraps her arms around his naked torso. Her fingers run through his hair, and she plants a soft kiss upon his lips. A kiss that tastes like truth.

He's crying now. Can't believe his dream is coming true. Can't believe he's finally here. Can't believe she's kissing him. He pulls back and searches her eyes. He can see pain, guilt, but he is blinded by the love. Now he knows, she has love, feels love for _him_, and he feels warm.

The rest of the night is a blur to both of them. They soak in the tub, drinking champagne, feeding each other cherries. The pair move to her bed, lounging in their robes and cuddling. They make love. Slow and gentle and sweet. Both feel loved and secure and complete. They reach their climax, utter bliss, and they cry together. In the early hours of the morning they lie together, silent and pensive. He feels he's in heaven for the first time, and she the second.

She smiles, and he is warm.

***

A/n: I'm gonna write a companion piece to this Sonata In Red called Smile, so look out for that. Some of my other Spuffy pieces include Bent and Burgandy (which I will be updating soon, promise!) and sooo… that's about it. Thank ya muchly for reading, now go review, huh?


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